Everyday life as a Domina

Tag Archives: virginity

Good evening. I’ve been an avid follower of your blog for some time. The dynamics you create with the men who serve you is something I find fascinating.

I am particularly intrigued by the path you’re leading Sounder down, and what you’re doing with him. That dynamic is fascinating, and I enjoy reading about it, and the things you do to him. I understand that he’s never been penetrated by a man. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask your indulgence while I illustrate a fantasy I thought I’d never have the opportunity to fulfill.

I have always craved power and control over others. That craving, I’m sure, has had quite a lot to do with the level of success I’ve achieved in my life. But there’s something about sexual control that appeals to me on a completely different level. The idea of forcing someone to bend to my will is highly erotic. This idea has morphed over the years into a fantasy involving nonconsensual sex, of overpowering someone or rendering someone completely helpless and having my way with him. I am not homosexual, but for reasons beyond my understanding, this fantasy has always involved forcing myself on a man, rather than a woman.

You’ve said that Sounder has never been penetrated by a man, and is reluctant to make that happen. The post he wrote very clearly illustrates his general mindset, and the way his reluctance and fear drive you to lead him deeper. Being in a position of leadership myself, this is something I can appreciate. So there is something I’d like to propose to you.

I would like the opportunity to purchase his virginity from you, and use him to fulfill my fantasy. I will be staying in town for the rest of the week. There is a specific way I’ve envisioned this, but of course he is your sub and it’s open to negotiation.

I would like having him brought to my room, blindfolded, with his hands tied behind his back, fully clothed. I would like to forcefully remove his clothes, so he would need a second outfit to wear. And of course you’re welcome to be present through the whole thing. I know you value him and want to make sure your property isn’t harmed. To that extent, I also have recent medical records I am willing to show before I touch him, to prove that I am drug and disease free.

Once his clothes have been removed, I will proceed to penetrate him. You’ve said a couple times that he is very strong, so it’s unlikely I will be able to overpower him without him being bound. Hence the reason for having his hands tied behind his back. But that’s not to say I wouldn’t want him to struggle at all. A large part of what draws me to this fantasy is the aspect of penetrating a man against his will. Souder will be welcome to struggle just as he would if this wasn’t a controlled, planned event.

I don’t have much interest in his mouth. If you want him gagged that’s fine, although I would prefer him not to be gagged, and able to say whatever he wishes.

I a businessman, and I of course would never expect something for nothing. I would be willing to pay you for the use of your sub, and for his virginity. I’m willing to pay $250 for it, up front of course. And after I’ve finished with him, I will leave the room for a time, to allow you to help him recover, and take your time in leaving. I’m unfamiliar with the protocols for aftercare, but understand that it’s important and should not be neglected, particularly after intense sessions like the one I’ve described.

Please respond at your convenience if this is something that interests you. I would like to thank you for your time and consideration, and wish you a pleasant evening.

Regards

The idea was an intriguing one, but I told him no and didn’t give it much thought.

Until yesterday, when it came up in conversation with Sounder. I told him the gist of what this gentleman had been looking for.

Well I think it would be fun…

Those of you who were clients of mine in Alabama can definitely understand why that price was so insulting. I charged $200 for a session. Just a regular, plain session. Why would anyone think I’d give up something far more valuable for only fifty dollars more?

I told this man that I wouldn’t even consider something like that for so little, and that I was shocked at his nerve in suggesting it. Sounder’s virginity for $250? Are you kidding me?

That’s like asking to buy the Mona Lisa for a few thousand dollars (it’s worth almost 800 million, in case you were wondering… I kinda have a thing for da Vinci). You’d be laughed out of the country for suggesting something so ridiculous.

And really, Sounder’s virginity is a valuable commodity. He’s never been penetrated by a man, he doesn’t want to be penetrated by a man, but his desire to please and obey me overrides his reluctance.

I can see how that would give a man with a rape fantasy a unique opportunity to fulfill a fantasy he would not otherwise be able to fulfill. Sounder is about as close to “unwilling” as you can get without crossing the line into actual nonconsensual sex. It’s about as close to realism as you can get without breaking any laws or violating any moral code.

I get that. As a lover of consensual nonconsent, I adore situations where a boy is forced to do things he doesn’t want to do. I have my own rape fantasies, and my favorite porn videos involve (believable) roleplay rape scenarios.

So I get it. I understand the appeal. And, for this gentleman, I can even tell him why he wants to force himself on a man, rather than a woman.

It has nothing to do with your sexuality. It’s a dominance thing. It’s an alpha-male thing. Especially for someone who craves control and power, what more effective display of power is there?

Gay, straight, or in between, it doesn’t matter. The attraction to this kind of fantasy has nothing to do with sexuality. It has to do with dominating another man. It’s the ultimate display of dominance.

I’ve known a couple of straight or straight-ish Doms who owned male slaves. When I first met a man like that, I didn’t understand it at all. Why would he own someone he’s not sexually attracted to? Why, if he’s not gay or bi, would he choose to own men, rather than women?

He explained the dominance, and the way he views D/s. For him, he would never dream of Dominating a woman. In fact, he was married to a Domme, and while he was in no way her sub, she more or less ran things.

For him, it was an alpha-male thing. He explained that there was no greater feeling in the world than forcing himself inside a reluctant man, making that man accept him. He was brutal with his subs, and regularly fucked them raw, ruthlessly held them and just pounded his cock into their mouths, he often went ass to mouth, he completely and utterly violated them and degraded them.

It was fucking awesome. And it made me extremely jealous that I don’t have a penis. Even now, imagining Sounder being brutally violated that way by a man makes me jealous I don’t have one, and can’t do it myself.

Oh, but don’t get me wrong. Watching him being used like that by another man will be indescribably hot.

So I get it. I know that attraction, I can relate to that attraction. I can understand the appeal of a man like Sounder and the unique opportunity he represents.

But $250? For Sounder’s virginity? Hell fucking no.

He has never had a man inside him. Ever. In his life.

The very first moment that a man pushes the tip of his cock into Sounder’s hole, that will be gone forever. You’re only a virgin once. Only one man on the planet is going to be able to take Sounder’s virginity. And if I’m going to give it to a stranger, it damn sure won’t be for $250.

I have expensive tastes, ladies and gentlemen. And I have a boy on the other side of the country who misses me.

There’s no way I would sell something as valuable as Sounder’s virginity for that little. And it is valuable. Once he loses it, it’s gone forever. He will never again be able to say that he’s never been fucked by a man. For the rest of his life.

But I do know that just because something is valuable doesn’t mean that it’s in high demand. So I’m curious to know what the demand for a reluctant man’s virginity is. Is that something many men would want? Is it something they would pay for?

Brace yourselves, y’all. I’m going to talk about women’s private parts. And you can wrinkle your nose all you want, but I don’t see any of you complaining when I discuss, in graphic detail, the male genitalia I’ve played with and what I’ve done to them.

*Note: If I own you, currently have or may have any future plans to play with you, or interact with you in person on a somewhat regular basis, this is required reading, and fuck yeah I may quiz you on it.

You read that right. Virginity isn’t a thing. It’s not real. There is no “popping a cherry.” There is no “deflowering.”

None of that has any basis in actual, anatomical reality. It does not exist.

Here’s a “Pop” Quiz (see what I did there?). It’s geared specifically towards men, although recent conversations have shown me that an alarming number of women don’t know much more about it than men do. And no cheating. I want to know what you know, not what Google knows.

What is a hymen?

A) A barrier used to determine whether or not a woman has had vaginal intercourse.

B) A thin, stretchy membrane covering the opening of the vagina, punctured the first time a woman has intercourse.

C) An organ that serves to protect prepubescent girls from bacterial infections.

D) An elastic ring of tissue around the vaginal opening.

E) All of the above

F) None of the above

What was your answer?

Was it E? All of the above?

If so, congratulations, you know as much about a woman’s body as a 12-year-old boy who just finished the half-hour “Abstinence Only” sexual ed course his school required.

Reality check. The answer is D. That’s it. It doesn’t cover the vagina. Seriously, guys. Think about that for a second. Think about a woman who has sex for the first time at the age of 19.

She started puberty at 11. Which means she started having periods at 11.

Go ahead, cringe, wrinkle your nose, squirm uncomfortably in your chair, whisper “Gross, gross, gross,” to yourself over and over, or whatever it is you do whenever you’re confronted with the idea of a woman’s period. I’m serious. Get it all out of your system. Go on, I’ll wait.

So, if you actually think about a period without being grossed out, and in effect (and very effectively, I might add) telling the women around you that their bodies are dirty, and undesirable, and something they should be ashamed of, then you’d realize that for the 8 years between the start of her period and the “loss of her virginity,” a membrane blocking the vaginal opening would’ve prevented her from bleeding.

News flash, gentlemen. We don’t like periods any more than you do. That’s not something we look forward to (unless we don’t want to be pregnant, and then we’re going to the bathroom every ten minutes, hoping to see even the tiniest hint of red, because holy fucking hell we don’t want some kind of obligatory connection with you for the rest of our lives). It’s goddamn inconvenient, and uncomfortable, and we get annoyed as fuck when it comes early and ruins our clothes or our sheets.

But we can’t get away from it. It’s a part of our bodies, and we learn to just try to hide it when men are around, because we’ve been convinced that men don’t want us when we’re bleeding. We find gentle ways to say it, in an effort to avoid the grossed-out expression we know is coming, even from grown-ass men. Even from married men.

So we deal with it. Bitching about it and being grossed out by it isn’t going to do us any good. Just deal with it and move on.

No, hymens don’t block the vaginal opening (except in very rare cases, which need to be surgically fixed), and they are not an indicator of virginity. They can be torn by using a tampon, doing gymnastics, running, doing pretty much any kind of strenuous physical activity.

But here’s the thing. While they are fragile, in the vast majority of women, they are elastic enough to accommodate a penis. Her own natural lubrication plays a huge role in this. If she’s aroused enough, there is less friction, and therefore a significantly smaller chance that it will tear.

So, ladies and gentlemen, a hymen is not supposed to tear during intercourse. In fact, less than half of women bleed at all the first time they have sex.

It’s not supposed to tear during sex. And it’s never supposed to be painful, even if it does tear (the hymen doesn’t have nerve endings).

That bears repeating.

There are no nerve endings. A woman’s first time is not supposed to hurt. At all.

So if you’ve ever “taken a girl’s virginity,” and it was painful for her, then congratulations, you did it wrong and caused her pain for no reason, other than to feed your own ego (and because you sucked at it, and couldn’t get her turned on). And what’s worse, you bragged about it to your buddies afterward.

Another fun fact, the hymen can sometimes heal. And hymens come in all different shapes and sizes. Some women are even born without one.

So why is there so much misinformation out there?

Mostly because people just don’t want to know. There’s so much stigma regarding a woman’s body. Even women don’t know much about their own anatomy, and I was guilty of that when I was pregnant, and learned quite a bit about my body that I hadn’t known. I was stunned by the sheer volume of shit I didn’t know about my own damn body.

Look at magazines like Cosmopolitan. You see articles like, “11 Things Women Wish Guys Knew About Giving Blowjobs,” and “How to Be a Good Girlfriend,” or “What Every Woman Thinks Before Faking an Orgasm.” But rarely will you see anything about the vagina. And even when you do, it’s a humorous video titled, “Watch Straight Women Touch Another Vagina for the First Time.”

Even women freak out when being confronted a vagina, because it’s been pounded into our heads that it’s gross, and that indoctrination has been so successful that many women legitimately believe it. Women aren’t encouraged to get to know their happy place, and it doesn’t help that much of it is difficult to see without a mirror and some contorting.

Here’s a scary fact: Even the average gynecologist knows precious little about the hymen. Because, relative to the vastly complex system that makes up female genitalia, the hymen doesn’t seem to serve much of a purpose, and doesn’t warrant much attention, other than learning where it is and if something’s wrong with it. No one really knows what its purpose is, or why it’s there.

People told you that it tears when you have sex, and that it’s supposed to tear, and it’s supposed to hurt, and that it represents a woman’s virginity, and we all have accepted this as truth.

And it’s alright, I get it. Even I didn’t know much about it until I was an adult. And it doesn’t help when sources that you probably trust (like the New York Times or Huffington Post) perpetuate the myths about the hymen.

So where did the misinformation come from in the first place?

Pedophilia, mostly. Back in the day, girls were married as soon as they hit puberty (or even before), often to adult men. It’s a size thing. Imagine shoving a bowling ball into the leg of a pair of nylon stockings.

Yeah, shit’s gonna tear. It’s gonna be painful. It’s gonna bleed.

But for an adult woman, having sex with an adult man, even massive cocks shouldn’t tear it (so don’t go thinking you hurt her because you’re “just that big.” You did it wrong. Own it and move on).

And it’s a way to further objectify women (and not the fun, kinky objectification). Even now, a woman is somehow considered more valuable and more pure if she has an intact hymen, and many women will even pay insane amounts of money and endure quite a bit of pain for a surgery to have their hymen restored for their husbands.

Which is a scam, by the way. They basically put in what amounts to one of those blood capsules that you use to paint your face at Halloween. And it’s recommended that you have sex a few days after, at the most, because otherwise the capsule will break on its own.

And even now, doctors report parents often bringing in their daughters, asking them to check if they’re still virgins. As recently as 10 years ago, in the great state of Alabama, a mother killed her 12-year-old daughter when she found out she wasn’t a virgin.

Pretty much all religion puts virginity on a dangerously high pedestal, and even the more progressive religious beliefs imply that a virgin woman is somehow better than one who isn’t. For example, some Orthodox Jews believe that an “experienced woman” is given a sexually clean slate when she’s married, and becomes a “spiritual virgin,” with all of her previous carnal sins wiped away.

And as fucked up as that sounds, that’s actually pretty damn progressive compared to many other contemporary religious views.

But it’s not just religion. In 2013 a Brazilian woman tried to sell her virginity for 1.5 million dollars. That same year, an impoverished Cuban woman sold her daughters’ virginities in an effort to make money.

What’s more, just think about the terminology associated with this act. She lost her virginity. He popped her cherry. He took it from her. She was deflowered.

Jesus, that doesn’t sound romantic at all. It sounds violent. And goddamn terrifying.

Even now, virginity is something women are supposed to be proud of. They’re supposed to “save themselves” for marriage. While virginity in men is shamed and ridiculed (40 Year Old Virgin, anyone?).

But no one wants to acknowledge that the reason we feel this way is because we’re clinging to a tradition designed to treat women as commodities to quite literally be bought and sold.

It’s so bad, that even I believed it as a young adult. All the guys I’d dated up to that point (and all except one after), were grossed out by it, or just wanted to ignore it, and of course there was no sex during that time. I was gross for four days. I didn’t even try.

Only one didn’t say “ew,” or cringe, or wrinkle his nose, or do anything to imply that my body was gross, and something to be ashamed of.

You may have read about him, he was the 44-year-old I fucked straight out of high school, and after two months, he knew more about my cycle than I did. And this wasn’t a fetish of his or anything. He was just a regular, vanilla guy who understood that it’s an inescapable annoyance, and that I wasn’t somehow “less hot” 4 days out of the month.

And I’ll never, ever, until the day I die, forget the way it felt that first month, when he reached for me and I pushed him away, saying, “I’m on my period.”

Because even I, on a subconscious level, felt the responsibility to tell him, because he, like every other man I’d been with up to that point (it’s a miracle I got through high school without an STD), would of course not want to touch me when I was bleeding. I needed to tell him right away, before he even started kissing me, because I thought it would be unfair to get him all worked up, and then disappoint him when he found out and realized that sex was out of the question.

He looked genuinely confused by me pulling away, even when he reached for me a second time. He sort of furrowed his brow and said, “Okay, so?”

And I had no idea what to say to that. What did he mean, so? I mean, he did hear me correctly, didn’t he?

Trying to find a response to that made me acutely aware of how ashamed I was of my own period. My own body. Finally, I half mumbled something like, “It’ll be messy.”

He shrugged and said, “So? I have towels, and I have a shower. We’ll lay some towels down on the bed, and we’ll take a shower together after. I don’t see the problem.”

His reaction will stay with me forever, and I fully admit that every single man since then who has been confronted with that same situation (which, admittedly, hasn’t happened in a couple of years) is held up and compared to B, and every single man has fallen drastically short.

Now, is that something I fault those men for? Not necessarily. They were brought up the same way I was, the same way most women were. I had my eyes opened when I found myself trying to explain why I shouldn’t have been as desirable while I was on my period, but personal experience has shown that men like B are very few and far between.

And I don’t blame them for that. That alone has never stopped me from loving, dating, owning, or (in Kazander’s case) marrying a man. I know I can’t change Kazander’s mindset. And he’s gotten better about keeping his mouth shut, and keeping his opinions to himself.

The point is that Kazander, and men like him, are grown and set in their ways. I can’t change him. But I can do my part to make sure that attitude dies with him, and the next generation of girls never has to feel that kind of shame.

And yes, if you’ve ever wrinkled your nose, mocked her behind her back with your buddies, or said, “Gross” when you found out it was her time of the month, or just don’t want to know, and pretend to ignore it, then yes, you’re treating women like commodities, teaching them that they should be ashamed of their bodies, crushing their self-esteem, and reinforcing the mindset that a woman’s value is tied into her sexuality and her ability to be pleasing to a man.

Which, incidentally, also applies to those assholes who give women shit for breastfeeding in public. “You’re using your breasts for something other than my sexual gratification? That makes me uncomfortable, and I must tell you how gross it is, because I am only capable of seeing you as a thing to be looked at and hit on.”

So it’s not surprising that completely fictional things like female virginity are still regarded as fact. It’s not surprising when roughly half the world’s population simply doesn’t want to think or talk about a woman’s vagina, except for how it feels when they put their dick in one.

In reality, female virginity is exactly the same as male virginity. There is no anatomical difference between a male virgin and an experienced male, and there is no anatomical difference between a female virgin and an experienced female.

The Nerd came over last night. And holy-fucking-glow-in-the-dark-ass-implants, Batman.

I knew this was his first time, and that he was nervous as hell, so I decided I was going to completely capitalize on that nervousness. I wore my black thigh-high stockings, a sheer, thigh-length camisole, and my black over-bust corset over that. With black pumps, of course.

I looked damn good. And scary for a new sub, which was an awesome bonus. Kazander certainly approved of the way I looked.

It was adorable how eager the Nerd was. He got here and I immediately brought him into the bedroom and told him to take off his clothes. So he was standing there, naked, and rock-hard, hairless, and trembling.

And I already knew he was cute. But seeing him naked, I was reminded that he’s actually really good-looking. Slender, but not scrawny, around my height (he was actually a smidge shorter than me, but I was wearing the heels), with black hair and a sweet, innocent face.

Yes please, and thank-you-very-much.

I made him stand there for a minute, while I walked around him, inspecting my new toy and loving what I was seeing. He shuddered a bit when I ran my nails down his back, over his butt, and when I reached lower, to tease his asshole a bit, I heard that soft gasp that I love so freaking much.

I made him bend over and teased him some more, alternating between playing with his ass and his balls. Really, all I wanted to do was grab him by his hair, pin him down on the bed, and fuck him brainless with the strapon, but I knew I had to take things slow.

And I knew the strapon would be too big for him. It’s not for beginners, and especially not for virgins. So that would have to wait.

Dammit.

But still, I had a wide array of toys I could use on him, and I was excited about it.

I have one of those under-the-bed restraint systems, so I had him lie on his back, spread-eagle, and tied his hands down. I didn’t cuff his ankles, because I needed them up and bent, so I could get easier access to his ass. I decided not to blindfold him yet. No, I wanted to see his face when I took his virginity.

First, I just slid a lubed-up finger inside him. He held my gaze as I fingered him, moaning softly and squirming all over the place. He was so tight, it was unbelievable. I’ve gotten so used to kazander, who is well acquainted with ass play, it was actually a little surprising, how much tighter the Nerd was.

I fingered him for a bit, using my other hand to edge him a couple of times (the first of many), then switched to the vibe he bought when I took him to the store.

It was bigger than my fingers, so I needed to go slow. I lubed it up well, positioned it at his entrance, and started easing it in.

I can’t lie… There was a big part of me that just wanted to ram it in, to completely and utterly violate him, to absolutely degrade him. The temptation was strong.

But I want him to enjoy anal. I want him to enjoy and crave being filled, being fucked, being used. And with what I knew of his personality, I needed to go slow with him to achieve that goal. I needed to be gentle.

So I was. I slid it in slowly, giving him time to adjust. He was breathing hard and gasping, still moaning and squirming in that delicious way of his. Finally, it was all the way in, and I started caressing his chest and stomach, giving him a moment to get used to the fact that he was being penetrated for the first time in his life.

And the look on his face as he looked up at me, the vulnerability, nervousness, desire, pain, humiliation, and trust there, was insane. I was already dripping wet, and we were barely fifteen minutes into our play.

Then, after a moment, I reached down and turned the vibe on, setting it to a medium speed. And his reaction was priceless. His eyes widened, he gasped, his whole body tensed up, and he started writhing slowly on the bed, grinding his butt into the mattress.

He wanted to be fucked.

And who am I to deny such a sweet little thing what he wanted?

So I gripped the end of the vibe and started fucking him with it, pushing it in as far as it would go, then pulling it almost all the way back out. I went slowly, letting him savor the experience, letting him savor the sensation. It was a long, slow, thorough fucking, and he was going nuts.

After a few minutes, I left the vibe to continue whirring away inside him, and turned my attention elsewhere. I put on my vampire gloves and ran them across his chest, ribs, stomach, and thighs. Mostly, I was gentle with them, but of course there was the occasional slap to his thigh, or reaching down to cup his ass cheek tightly, or pressing a fingertip to his nipples, balls, or shaft.

Next came the Whartenburg Wheel, which got some nice, shivery reactions from him.

By this time, he was actually getting pretty overwhelmed, and I had to remind myself that he’s completely new, completely inexperienced, and while he wasn’t a total virgin, he hadn’t been with a lot of women, either. I needed to take things slow. What kazander and I would consider a great warm-up was about all he could handle.

So I didn’t take it much farther than that. About an hour after we started, I grabbed my vibrating wand and held it to his dick, while turning the vibe inside him all the way up, as high as it would go.

It took less than a minute. He came all over the place, and I gently pulled the vibe out of him, handed him a towel, and gave him some time to recover. It was his first play session, and his first experience with the sub drop that sometimes comes afterwards, and seemed a little worried. I explained that he’d just pretty much exhausted his body’s supply of adrenaline, endorphins, and seratonin. It’s normal to feel a little “off” afterwards.

So I sat with him for about twenty minutes after the session was over, just chatting and letting him recover. Once he was feeling a bit more steady, I walked him out, gave him a hug, and sent him on his way.

And I’ll have to be honest, I was half-expecting to run damage-control with kazander after the Nerd left. It had been my first time playing with another sub since the very earliest days of our relationship, and while we had both talked about it, and agreed to it, I didn’t know how he was going to react.

So I was prepared for anger, or hurt feelings, or jealousy, or anything like that.

Instead, when I approached him on the couch, he leaned forward, grabbed my panties in his teeth, and pulled them off of me (I should say, I was ridiculously wet at this point, and the panties were soaked).

Well, okay then. I can definitely work with that.

I took my cue from him and grabbed him by his hair, pulling his head back and shoving the wettest part of the panties in his mouth, making him taste it. I leaned over and whispered, “How does it feel, knowing it was someone else who got me this wet?”

He didn’t answer with words, but his dick jumped immediately to attention, and he melted into that mushy, squishy pile of subby goo that I love so much. He and I played for a bit, and he gave me oral, and then we went to bed.

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This is an 18+ blog about my day-to-day life as a Domina, wife, mother, and all that other crap. A chronicle of me. While this blog focuses primarily on the D/s aspect of my life and my relationships with Kazander, Steel, and Sounder, it is not exclusive to that subject, and I might talk about my kid, or my annoying mother, or my sister's pet cat, or whatever the hell I feel like talking about.

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It begins over a friendly disagreement, during which you smile, roll your eyes, and say, “Go fuck yourself.”

“But, Ma’am, that’s physically impossible.”

You smirk and ask how certain I am of this. On a roll, I launch into a smug and tangential rant about the anatomical impossibility of an individual’s being capable of fucking oneself. Your response is to merely shrug, smile, and make a cryptic statement:

“Don’t be so sure…”

Later that evening, you tell me bedtime will be early, an hour early to be exact. The amused look on your face says it would be in my best interests not to argue.

Sometimes I fall into a vicious cycle where I’m mentally and emotionally frustrated and cannot manage to channel that energy into productive avenues. In the old days, this would lead to drinking or drugs, but I don’t do that anymore. Instead, I try to go about my day, generally fail to complete mundane tasks and end up feeling ‘stuck’ – this progresses into a cycle of mild depression, feelings of inertia, guilt over said inertia, and then on and on it goes until something snaps me out of it.

It feels like I’m seated in a car stuck in neutral yet compelled to rev the engine until it screams.

When did I last curl up in her lap? It’s been so long, I cannot recall. Despite numbered boxcars on the calendar and the disinterested faces of clocks, a concrete memory eludes me. Time, location, and date, they’re merely three dimensions after all.